


A Living Man

by oberynmartell



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drama, Wholock, slight angst, slight humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:25:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oberynmartell/pseuds/oberynmartell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes has a meeting at Speedy's Cafe with a strange man who goes by the name of John Smith...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Living Man

Mycroft Holmes examined the man sat across from him. He had always admired that tweet jacket, but had never got round to buying one of his own. He liked the bow tie as well, although that, he would never admit to. He curled a finger round the handle of his tea cup and raised it to his lips, never taking his eyes off the John Smith.

“And what have you been up to since our last meeting?” He asked, setting the cup back on its saucer and adding a sprinkle more sugar. He saw John’s raised eyebrow at this and sighed, did the entire world know he was on a diet?

“Oh you know, time and space and all that” John replied, he smiled, but Mycroft noticed that something had changed in that smile, there was a faltering, tiny and hardly visible, but it was there.

“Something happened” He stated, lifting the tea cup yet again. Sherlock may be famous for his deductions but Mycroft was easily as observant.

“Yes, but I sense that’s not what you invited me here for” John smiled, that same, false and tightened smile.

“You know?” Mycroft asked “Surely you know?”

The other man nodded slowly, a grim expression of understanding flashed across his face.

“Yes, of course” He answered “How’s John coping?”

“How do you think John’s coping?” Mycroft responded rather harshly, his brother’s death had left him impatient, easily irritated, and this above all perplexed him day and night.

“Much in the same way you are, I suspect” John Smith replied with a frown “But what does this have to do with me?”

Mycroft glanced at the man opposite him. He had met John Smith only two other times in his life, the first, on the eve that Sherlock met John Watson, and the second, on the eve he met James Moriarty. Never, on either of those occasions, had John Smith really explained why he was here, or who he actually was, but for reasons Mycroft couldn’t truly explain, he trusted this man more than he did the entire British government, more than he did his own brother.

“You could save him - god knows how, and god knows why I think so, but I know you can, and I’m willing to pay if such a thing is needed”

“No money, Mycroft Holmes” John Smith replied, pushing Mycroft’s cheque book back into his hand “There’s nothing I can do”

Mycroft’s eyebrows furrowed, he lifted his tea cup to his lips again with a paler, stiffer hand.

“Somebody close to you has died recently, John Smith, just as I have” He sighed “My own skills are very similar to those of my late brother’s, you see, and even though you tell me nothing of yourself, there are certain things I can… observe”

The other man seemed to waver at this; his defences quickly recovered and that nonchalant look returned, but the sadness in his eyes and in his smile remained as before.

“Care to explain your methods?”

Mycroft smiled, and knew himself that his smile was just as fake and fixed as the man sat opposite him.

“Sadly they’re not as complex as my brother’s workings; the half-hidden sadness on your face tells me all I need to know” Mycroft smiled, setting his now-empty cup back down for the last time “Care to indulge me?”

John Smith glanced away for a second before looking back, his eyes now colder than before.

“Do you have a pond in your garden, Mr Holmes?”

This question threw Mycroft off balance, his eyebrows drew closer together. He shook his head.

“Wonderful things are ponds, Mycroft, as wonderful as rivers and roses I dare say”

John Smith smiled, and Mycroft momentarily wondered if the man was insane, but swept the thought aside. All the best men _are_ insane.

“Back to the original topic, Mr Smith… Why can’t you save him?”

The other man retreated back slightly into sobriety, but that more genuine smile still stayed on his curious face. He rose from his seat and rounded the table to where Mycroft now also stood.

“Because, Mr Holmes, you can’t bring a living man back from the dead” He grinned, and with that, the strange and extraordinary John Smith left Speedy’s café, leaving a very confused yet oddly hopeful Mycroft Holmes behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on Archive of Our Own!
> 
> Please comment or Kudos, it only takes a second and it would make my day! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this!


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